Canadian Humanitarian NGO & Canadian Lobster Fisherman involved In Water & Drip Irrigation Community Development in Mali, West Africa. Living Stories. Listening To Stories. Looking for Moments & Memories. Writes very poorly, and is oh so struggling to balance two very different lives.

Stormy Seas – Bass Ass Bikers

Did I just join a biker gang not realising what I have done? This stormy sea day could be payback.

I’m sitting here in the captain’s chair waiting to see how this weather unfolds. It’s a blustery NE today. I think this ship will remain tied to the dock, like all others.

Fishing has been my life the last month. Preparations on the boat, gear, and rigging. We set gear last Saturday. It’s been enriching to be at sea again.

Took my first ride with a motorcycle club Sunday. We landed in Summerside at a local establishment where all the bikers seem to hang.

There were five Honda Golding’s parked at the door with their very senior riders occupying the benches, each one decked out in leathers. On the way out with my coffee in hand one of the elderly gentlemen corned me ( He was a big man. I mean a 6.4 giant) inquiring where I was from, and it turns out that “Giant Goldwing Guy” is from my area. He was really probing me about the riding group I was with, saying he never heard of us etc. I had never heard of these guys until last week. The giant wanted to know if we drive Harleys or only certain types of bikes. I said they had every kind and that I drive a 650 Suzuki Burgman so they can’t be too fussy.

Finally, he stopped beating around the bush and asked me flat out, “Are you guys a gang or something? Are you one of those bad motorcycle groups?”

I expressed that I hoped it is not so, but i really did not know for sure, this being my first ride with the guys and not knowing a single guy before that day.

I suggested “Giant Goldwing Guy” should come and talk to the “gang” leader, since i had no answers.

He did, and in the end informed us all that he is a lead member of the Goldwing Motorcycle club and was hoping to organise a few rides with our group, but only if we were not a gang. Guess he figured they were not a gang after all, to my own relief.

That old giant speaks his mind too. Since our group was riding to his neck of the woods he asked to join us for the trip home. So he followed behind the leader and at the very first stop Mr Goldwing gets off his bike, points to me, then the lead bike, saying,

“You can ride after him next leg. His god damn music is so loud I can’t even listen to my radio. If I had a stick I’d smash that damn thing.”

Who was the bad ass biker gang dude now? Wasn’t me, wasn’t any of the other guys in the group. Who says such things to strangers? Turns out the old Giant Goldwing Guy is the bad ass….. he’s too bad-ass and mouthy for me. 🙂 🙂

But it was all good fun…

The moral of the story is not to judge a biker by his docile aging cover story.

The “Gang” has planned another ride for this Sunday… I’ll see.

Some wisdom that came along this week. Wish I’d practiced it more in my life. I’m committed to it now.

J. R.R. TOLKIEN – PEACE IS NEVER FREE

"………….. and there in that pleasant corner of the world they plied their well-ordered business of living, and they heeded less and less the world outside where dark things moved, until they came to think that peace and plenty were the rule in Middle-earth and the right of all sensible folk. They forgot or ignored what little they had ever known of the Guardians, and of the labours of those that made possible the long peace of the Shire. They were, in fact, sheltered, but they had ceased to remember it."
J. R.R. Tolkien "The Fellowship of the Ring" , 1985, George & Allen & Urwin Pub LTD(Page 22-23 prologue)

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Pictures

Photo is attributed as, “The Graves Of A Catholic Woman And Her Protestant Husband Seperated By A Wall, Holland, 1888.”

Bones placed in Animistic Religious Ritual

Jean Claude spreading already fermented coco out to dry.

My son Ted with me on a return trip to Ivory Coast in 2009. His first time back in Ivory coast since his childhood. Coffee drying.

Some of my coco growing friends. A happy reunion in 2009. Man I miss these guys.

90 km In the Bush.Doing Drought Season Drip Irrigated Gardens.

View From the Pier in Segou.

Farming tools have not changed for these people for 300 years.

Our orange lady, who passed away.

By the Baffond on Niaradougou. By the Potato fields.

Road to Bankagooma Land

Storage Granery for Millet to feed the family though 9 months of drought in Sahel.